


Enough, Almost.

by GryffindorsCrest



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:51:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7660000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryffindorsCrest/pseuds/GryffindorsCrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam and Zayn are lovers. Zayn is married. Liam is single. And that's good enough for them both. Almost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough, Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Liam or Zayn, however much I would like to. They're all 'property' of Simon Cowell and his minions at Syco.

There's a shivery thrill of anticipation in Zayn's stomach as he moves through the hotel lobby. Three floors up, Liam is waiting for him, and Zayn has to fight to keep his pace slow and steady. He mustn't look as if he's rushing – that would rouse suspicion, and already people are giving him sideways glances. He's mostly used to it, the attention that comes with being Zayn Malik, the pop star, but right now it's hard to shake off the sneaking suspicion that they are watching him because they know where he's going, and why. Not that they would know Liam was waiting for him, though. Liam wasn't famous. He was an ordinary member of the public, a Zayn Malik fan. Zayn tries to keep himself looking casual, hands slipped carelessly into the pockets of his jeans and the set of his shoulders loose and natural, not hunched in like he's tucking a dirty secret away inside.

 

So he's cool. He's calm. He shares an elevator up with a woman who turns to him, shyly, and asks please, if it isn't too much trouble, could he sign an autograph for her daughter, who's obsessed with Zayn's music? And when he takes the pen, his hands are steady, and the flourishes of his signature are smooth and assured. The woman beams at him, and she giggles nervously as she stammers her thank yous, and then she gets off at the second floor, leaving Zayn with a few moments of solitude in which to work out some of his nerves by fussing at his hair before the elevator doors sweep open at the third floor, Liam's floor, and Zayn's stomach twists.

 

For a moment as he stands outside Liam's room, poised to knock, Zayn suffers a spasm of panic. There's a part of him that can't believe what he's about to do, that sits separate from the rest of him and watches, incredulous and disapproving. He hasn't knocked the door yet, it tells him, he can still leave, if he wants. He can ride the elevator back down, retrace his steps through the hotel lobby, follow the trail that leads backwards from here to the other, safer life that centres around Gigi, who is back in their hotel room right now, waiting for him. He could do that, and yet somehow he can't. He knocks, and the sound seems oddly loud and echoing.

 

It takes Liam no time at all to answer, as if he'd been close to the door, waiting. He looks a lot less calm than Zayn is trying to be, and that dents Liam's composure somewhat, so that he flushes, and stammers a little when he tries to speak.

 

"H-hi, Liam."

 

"Zayn, it's good to see you. Come in?"

 

"Thank you, yes."

 

The show of politeness is for the benefit of anyone who might be listening in, and it lasts just as long as it takes for Liam to close the door. As soon as the lock clicks shut, Zayn finds himself pressed up against the wall with the full force of Liam's body. There's nothing gentle about Liam's hands on his waist, shoving him backwards against the wall almost as if Liam is testing to make sure that he won't disappear, that he's real and solid and here in Liam's arms.

 

"You came. I didn't think you would after you just performed on stage. I thought you'd be tired" Liam says, his voice muffled against Zayn's shoulder. Zayn can feel the faint graze of teeth through the thin material of his t-shirt.

 

"I always come," says Zayn. He twines his hands in Liam's silky hair, twisting the soft strands around his fingers with maybe just a little more force than is really necessary, but Liam seems to enjoy it, if his sharp intake of breath and the way he shifts his hips closer against Zayn's is anything to go by.

 

"You can stay?" Liam's breath is quick and shallow against Zayn's cheek.

 

"For a while. An hour, maybe two."

 

Liam pulls back just far enough that he can meet Zayn's eyes. "We'll make it last, right?" There are better ways to answer a question like that than with words, and Zayn knows them by now. Liam's mouth is open and ready under his, hot and wet. Zayn doesn't think he'll ever be able to get enough of this. The kiss starts off slow and sweet, but it gathers pace. They haven't done this enough to know how to keep passion on a low burn, how to create friction without starting a blaze. Liam is making low, ragged noises into Zayn's mouth, and Zayn holds him tightly with the full strength of his arms. They never hold back with each other.

 

Then Liam slips cool, clever fingers up underneath Zayn's t-shirt, skimming it up over his stomach and chest until they have to break apart, briefly, for Liam to drag the shirt over his head. It drops then in a soft pile on the floor, forgotten as Liam leans back in, slanting his mouth over Zayn's, framing Zayn's face with his two hands. Zayn works at Liam's belt, his hands far from steady now, pulling and shoving roughly to get the buckle undone so that he can snap the button open. Here, Liam has to break away from the kiss, panting, to hide his face against Zayn's neck, and slip one hand down into Liam's jeans. Liams cock is hard and burning hot against Zayn's palm.

 

"Bed," Liam gasps. "Please. Now."

 

They aren't gentle getting there, Zayn pushing just as much as Liam is pulling him, so they end up stumbling, falling together as Liam's calves hit the edge of the bed. Any other time, it would be funny, the way Liam lets out a little huff of breath as he tips backwards and they land awkwardly together, all tangled limbs and frantic movement; any other time but this, when they are too caught up in each other to stand outside themselves and recognise the ridiculousness of the situation. Zayn is wearing his jeans but no shirt, Liam still has his t-shirt on but his jeans are tangled around his knees. They have to break apart to strip fully, Liam pulling the shirt over his head with a smooth, fluid movement that makes the muscles of his stomach flutter.

 

There's always a moment of awkwardness in the transition from partly-clothed to fully nude. This thing between them is still new enough that the sight of each other's bodies comes as a shock, a thrill. It takes a couple of seconds before they collect themselves to carry on, but they move slower now, with less haste but no less heat. Fingers drag over skin, learning the feel of each other, mapping the hidden places that make the other gasp or shiver or moan. Zayn bites into the smooth, sweat-slick skin of Liam's shoulder, and Liam cries out.

 

The pace gathers again. There's a brief struggle to determine who goes on top, neither of them yielding - they never hold back with each other; they never have - until Zayn does something complicated and clever that involves hooking Liam's legs with his own and shoving up with the whole force of his body, so that Liam is flipped over onto his back, winded as Zayn's weight comes down on top of him, and he gasps raggedly when they press together along the whole length of their bodies.

 

They shift against each other, searching for the best fit. Zayn thrusts his hips down, hard, his cock rubbing into the cradle of Liam's hips, his fingers pressing hard enough to bruise against Liam's thigh, pulling Zayn's leg up a little, and from that Liam knows that Zayn would like to fuck him, like he's done many times before. Liam has to close his eyes then, because he suddenly wants more than anything to feel Zayn inside him again, the heat and pressure, the shocking sense of fullness. There's no time, though. He's too close, he'd never last through the feel of Zayn's finger's pressing inside; he's barely keeping it together as Zayn starts to thrust against him in earnest, finding a fluid rhythm that presses them both together, the friction so hot and so much and so, so good.

 

Zayn is panting and groaning against Liam's skin, and his voice is low and rough against Liam's ear, but the words are distinct, and Zayn feels them as sharp shocks right through his body; _Mine_ , Zayn is saying, over and over again, _you're mine_. He bites down at the juncture of neck and shoulder, sucking at the sensitive skin there, claiming him, and Liam comes hard, arching up against Zayn, his whole body alight. Above him he is vaguely aware that Zayn is coming too, he can hear Zayn's ragged cry and feel Zayn's fingers digging hard into his hips, but mostly he can still hear Zayn's words echoing in his ears, _mine, mine, mine. Yours_ , his own body is saying, curling into Zayn's as close as he can get, as if he's trying to crawl inside Zayn's skin. _Yours_.

 

The come-down is slow, aftershocks chasing across raw nerve-endings with every shift of Liam's skin against Zayn's own. Liam presses kisses to every bit of Zayn he has within reach - face, mouth, neck, chest. The kisses are soft and fumbling, like Liam's fingers ghosting across his cheekbones and tracing the line of his jaw over and over, clumsy with pleasure. Zayn, dazed, presses his face against Liam's neck, hiding his face there. There are strange, powerful emotions boiling under the surface, underneath the hazy gold afterglow, but this is a simple pleasure, to taste the salt on Liam's skin, drink in the smell of his body. It's a pleasure he can understand. He rolls them both onto their sides and wraps his arms around Liam's warm, beautiful body and holds on, glad for the solidity of Liam's body, the resistance of flesh and muscle under his hands.

 

Liam's fingers are carding through his hair, tugging a little on the damp strands at the nape of Roger's neck. He has surprisingly gentle fingers, for a man with such big, calloused hands. His fingertips drag just a little over the skin of Zayn's neck, raising the delicate hairs there. Liam's pulse is against Zayn's cheek, slowing gently to a steady rhythm. Zayn tilts his head a tiny bit and closes his mouth over the pulse-point. There's a complicated joy in having Liam's life under his lips like this, like almost everything with Liam is complicated; desire and guilt and the strange, possessive longing that Liam inspires in him. He's never been a jealous or a possessive man, and the urge to bite down on Liam's neck, to leave the mark of his teeth on the soft skin for all the world to see - it confuses him, frightens him a little. He doesn't know if this is who he really is, or if this thing with Liam is changing him, making him something different - something less or something more? - than he knows himself to be.

 

He allows himself one gentle brush of teeth against Liam's neck, and Liam moans against his temple, tightens his hold on Zayn's hip and tugs a little harder on Zayn's hair. Zayn wonders whether Liam feels this same conflict, the sensation of being caught between the twin desires to claim and be claimed. He wonders if Liam wants to tighten his hold on Zayn's skin to the point of bruising, to see the purpling imprints of his fingers flush against Zayn's skin. Zayn wonders if he would mind if Liam did. He doesn't know. And he doesn't know how that should make him feel, either.

 

So they simply lie there, wrapped tightly up in each other, breathing in time together. So rare is the opportunity to linger, to savour the feel of each other, that they are unwilling to squander the moment on talk. Every breath presses them closer together, and the only movement is the slow brush of Liam's fingers through Zayn's hair. Zayn keeps his face tucked against Liam's shoulder. He can't keep an eye on the time this way, but he trusts Liam not to endanger them by lingering too long.

 

Eventually, Liam sighs, his breath hot against Zayn's skin, and stills his fingers against Zayn's neck. "It's getting late," he murmurs, voice low and suffused with regret.

 

"Mmm," Zayn agrees. He ghosts the fingertips of one hand a little way down Liam's spine, enjoying Liam's responding shiver.

 

"Zayn," Liam says. "She will wonder where you are."

 

"All right." Zayn shifts in the circle of Liam's arms, pulling away from Liam's neck after placing one final kiss against the pulse-point. Raising himself up, he looks into Liam's face. Liam is so beautiful, so much more beautiful up close even than he is from a distance. Far away, the strongly-wrought contours of his face can seem harsh, the same way as the developed musculature of his body looks almost brutal sometimes. But up close the solidity of those lines, the strength of those muscles, only serve to highlight the various unexpected softnesses: the tenderness in his eyes, the shock of the curves of his body under Zayn's hands. That's Liam: the jumbled contradictions of hard and soft, fierce and gentle, forceful and yielding. Zayn can look at Liam sometimes, at the complicated, captivating man in his arms, and wonder how he ever thought of him as being just that simple fanboy who somehow became more than just a fan to him and was happy being Zayn's bit on the side. Maybe that's where the unexpected selfishness originates, in the desire to keep this unexpected Liam all to himself.

 

"I wish you could stay," Liam says. He still has his hand tight on Zayn's hip, as though he'd like to keep Zayn right where he is with the force of his grip.

 

"I wish I could stay." It's true. But there's Gigi to consider, waiting patiently for him back in their room.

 

"One day, maybe you'll stay," Liam says. He smiles softly, a little wistfully. "Maybe stay for good?"

 

"Liam -"

 

"Shh." Liam kisses Zayn then, a gentle brush of lips. "Stupid, I know."

 

"Not stupid," Zayn says. He swipes a thumb across Liam's full, swollen lower lip. "Just -"

 

"Impossible," Liam finishes. "I know."

 

"If I could stay -"

 

"I know. I know. Yes."

 

So Zayn kisses him, long and deep. He puts as much of himself into the kiss as he can, licking into Liam's mouth, winding his arms tightly around Liam, pressing as close as he can get. This is as much promise as he can make, with a kiss that says _this is yours, this part of me, here and now_. Perhaps one day Liam will be right, and there'll be time for more than a hurried hour in a hotel room, maybe he'll be able to stay here in Liam's bed and in Liam's arms for good. Today is not that day, but here in this kiss, in this bed, in this hotel room closed off from the rest of the world, they belong to one another for a little while longer. Liam's mouth is on his, and his body is warm and solid under Zayn's hands, and it's enough, almost.


End file.
